Thaumaturgy
by LethargicRose
Summary: They won't strip you of your skin. The won't cut off your hands. They won't burn you alive. Just keep your life a secret and it will all be ok. (A Setosorcerer fic. Ft. Skydoesminecraft, truemu, munchingbrotato, kkcomics, Jerome asf, bajancanadian, and all of that.)
1. Prologue- Liminal Spaces

Prologue

Liminal Space

He shouldn't be standing there. There was no reason for him not to be though, there wasn't a single voice or sign begging him to move, just the back of his own mind. He was out of place. It was a surreal sensation that had his fingers nervously tapping against the flask in his hands. It was a liminal space. He loved it. Whether it was the surreal emptiness and think darkness that made him feel out of place or his secret "Satanic gift" that no one knew of that made him feel odd, he didn't know. Of course he did visit church every Sunday, for he did not want to arouse suspicion, it was the fact that he stood there willingly at such an obscure time that fueled his constant feeling of obscurity.

He walked to a large basin, simple but lovely, that stood proudly on the alter. He looked down into it, seeing his pale face reflecting back at him in the holy water. He looked into his own eyes, breathing in the scent of petrichor and musk, feeling the dank chill or the shadowy room, and listening to the low roll of faraway thunder and approaching atmospheric disturbances.

Seto blinked a few times, bringing himself back. He rubbed his cold finger over the chilling glass of the flask he held. And then, he dipped it into the holy water, watching the ripples disturb his image. He brought his hand from the freezing water and fished a cork out of his ragged pocket with the other. And with that, he sealed the bottle, and put it back in his bag, hearing it click against a vile of rose oil and a little sack of salt. Stealing was his way of keeping two of his primary practices sharp.

The wind was beating the door of the church and the thunder boomed louder than before. Apparently there really was more of the storm to come than he expected. He decided to finish up his work quickly. Seto looked into a little stand to the left of the alter, he approached it to see it was full of white scentless candles and a woven whicker basket of donations. He looked at the coins and emeralds, but his guilt paralyzed his hand. Instead he clasped his hand around a candle, taking three. He would not stoop to theft of donations. Besides, why steal money from the church if he always refused their financial offerings for the poor.

He lightly closed the rickety drawer and stood back up, his back popping. He rubbed his tired eyes and looked at the door of the poor old church. The wind was getting violent once more and the thunder was becoming more frequent.

"Oh creatures of nature, do take pity on our poor village," he whispered to the spirits he often found himself praying to.

He then placed his hand on the rough wood and exposed himself to the elements.


	2. Chapter 1- Debt

Chapter 1

Debt

When we die, we just see space. Just for a brief moment, no more no less. And then, there is nothing. No blackness. Nothing. Your life leads up to that one glimpse of the universe, showing you passed your small existence.

She was beautiful. A woman of pure glowing white light, nearly burning Seto's mortal eyes. Her beautiful curvaceous body was adorning a long flowing white gown and a beautiful transparent veil, showcasing her beautiful closed eyes with her long thick lashes as dark as the night sky, and her full beautiful lips bent with the most perfect placidity on her perfect glowing skin. Not to mention her halo and wings made her seem as if she was a true angel. An angel trapped in the white, ever shrinking prison.

Her dark lashes lifted to expose her blank eyes of pearl, full of melancholy vibes. His warm coffee eyes stung from her cool gaze, it was as if he stood of the tallest peak in a snow storm with his eyes wide open.

She blinked slowly. "Ya'vashienda domu."

Seto heard her speak, but her lips did not move, it seemed her gibberish went from mind to mind. He looked up at the tall graceful woman, standing behind a veil of mild despair, was she a God? Did the religion he tried so hard to veer away from turn out to be wrong? Had his creator finally reached out to take his hands and drag his into a cesspool of salvation?

No.

Her delicate hands reached out and she began to kneel down to Seto's level. God would never kneel to a small mortal mind. Her hands lightly held Seto's face and she closed her blank eyes once more, her head tilting down. A God does not surrender to a weak organic force. Suddenly a pained look crossed her downturned face, and then, she dug her long nails deep into Seto's skin and drug them down his face and neck, feeling his rubbery flesh and muscled rip and snap.

Seto gasped and chocked on a shriek as he backed away from the disgusting woman, his hands groping his shredded face. He looked up at her, looking at the ruby red staining her pure white hands.

She stood up, impossibly taller than before, especially in this ever shrinking room, but her face was still placid, closed eyes and all. She began to float towards Seto.

He slowly backed away, never tearing his eyes from her. His back hit the freezing white wall. She looked down upon him, not opening her eyes to gaze upon his overwhelming fear nor his face stained with tears and blood. The only thing she opened, was her mouth.

"They said if I didn't, you'd do it first."

She took her bloody tense claws, her eyes opening and teeth snarling, letting a ferocious war cry out as she slashed down on the vulnerable sorcerer and then…

Seto felt an acute pain. He bolted up, hands immediately grasping his face and trailing down to clutch his neck. But he only felt sweat. He kept his hands around his neck and his wide eyes forward for just a moment, then he slowly let his hands fall to the ratty old mattress, letting a breath he didn't know he was holding escape.

"It was just another nightmare," Seto said to himself, disappointment in his voice. Just a coagulation of thoughts and fears. That was it.

His eyes took in his little house. Dirt floors, rotting wood walls, a small desk with two drawers, his mattress, a chair, and a locked oak box. The major recognizable features Seto grasped onto in that moment. Familiar reality. What he knew.

He pulled the blanket he had kicked off in the night off the floor, hiding his body with it and letting some of his body heat collecting under it. He needed a moment to ground himself.

His moment of silence did not last long, for a harsh knock disturbed his empty mind, letting a thousand scattered thoughts fill it. He jerked up and looked at the door. There was another grating knock.

"Open up!" A deep voice called.

"O-one moment!" Seto called to the mystery person. He threw the blanket off of himself and jumped up.

He grabbed his clothing off of the floor, still damp from the rain from the night before, and began to quickly put them on. They were cold and unpleasant, but being uncomfortable was better than answering the door naked.

The fist collided with the door again.

"Please, just one moment!" He called out one more time, pulling on his other worn boot.

His hands smoothed out the grubby fabric of his shirt and he ran his hands through his hair quickly. Finally, he looked towards the door, and backed away from it as far as he could, and then, he lit a small purple flame on his finger tip. He looked at the door nervously once more, and then cast the flame at himself. A masking spell. If he didn't hide his key sorcerer traits, that would be a dead giveaway of what he really was. Just a glimpse of those sharp teeth and nails, or those elfish ears could easily get him killed.

Finally, he opened up the door.

"I'm sorry my good sir, I had just woken, please forgive my delayed response," Seto apologized.

The man at the door stood in a pristine white suit trimmed in beautiful silver thread, a silver embodied rose over his left breast. Seto felt his breath hitch in his throat as he looked at the tall dark skinned man. A Queen's Guard.

"Are you Seto Lavinge?" He asked simply.

Seto nodded. "Yes sir I am."

Seto could feel a thousand thoughts screaming at him. They all screamed, "Witch, witch!" or "He knows you are the scum of the Nether!" He swallowed all of the accusing thoughts down and listened to the man instead. But he couldn't be here for anything good, whether he had been accused of witchcraft or not.

"I am here to report that you are behind on your taxes," He stated.

Seto felt a wave of relief, but he didn't let it show. Being called out for your taxes by a queen's guard was by no means good, but at least at this moment he did not have to fear for his life.

Seto nodded, thinking. "I see. How much do I owe?"

"Approximately 80 silvers at this point. If you do not pay sir, you will be taken into guard custody or asked to leave the village."

Seto sucked in air between his teeth. At least this guard was civil. Many were infamous for intense abuse of power.

"By what date do my dues need to be payed?" Seto asked.

"By the twelfth, raised a silver each day."

Seto was stunned. "A silver each day?"

The guard nodded once. "Times are tight in the lord's land."

"Yes, I understand," Seto nodded sadly. He spoke up once more. "Sadly I do not have my payments at this time. Please return the twelfth and I will give you what I can."

The guard gave a final stiff nod. "Thank you for your cooperation. May Notch's light shine brightly on you." With that the guard turned on his heel and walked away to attend to further business.

Seto closed the door and sighed. Times were just getting tougher and tougher these days.

"Dammit…" He said to himself.

He needed money soon. The day was already the ninth. But then again, Seto often found himself in tight financial situations, and he always managed to get out of them, just… not in the most moral of ways. Living in a village with next to no jobs made it impossible to earn a living, especially when you're a walk in nobody. If only they knew what he really was…

Seto knocked himself out of thought. No use pondering his blood money. That would get him nowhere, what would get him somewhere, would be dirty work, given to him by the rich.

 _A/N_

 _Hopefully I won't need to have too many author's notes. But hopefully the story can actually kick off at this point, and have less awkward chapters now that the opening is done and over with._


End file.
